Molly's Stay Over
by Way Worse Than Scottish
Summary: He was wearing that fabulously tight purple dress shirt that made Molly a hormone-riddled mess whenever she saw him.Oh I wonder how deliciously soft his hair is…. I bet it feels like a baby cloud… just one little stroke wouldn't hurt right? Absolutely not, the rational part of her brain said.


_Maybe just one peck on the cheek as he leaves?_

_NO Molly Hooper!_

Sherlock looked absolutely fuckable. He had arrived out of the blue, as usual, with a slight sheen of sweat and dilated pupils. He always looked like this when he was on a case. He was wearing that fabulously tight purple dress shirt that made Molly a hormone-riddled mess whenever she saw him.

_Oh I wonder how deliciously soft his hair is…. I bet it feels like a baby cloud… just one little stroke wouldn't hurt right?_

_Absolutely not, _the rational part of her brain said.

Oh he had just leaned over to look at a slide through the microscope, bending just enough for her to appreciate his deliciously firm looking bum. He had a look of total concentration, as always with his cases.

_If he ever looked at me like that,_ Molly almost swooned.

_Get a grip, Molly!_ She berated herself.

"Coffee, Molly," Sherlock snapped in his beautiful deep baritone. Oh the things his voice did to her… Noticing she still hadn't moved, he tore his eyes from the slide to look at the mousy pathologist. His eyes narrowed as she immediately blushed.

She realized he was looking at her expectantly.

"Oh, uh, r-right," she said, stuttering and accidentally pushing a folder of papers over the desk which flew everywhere.

Sherlock sighed exasperatedly, as he went over to her.

_Yes come ravish me, Sherlock._

They both bent down simultaneously, Molly accidentally knocking her head against his and blushing deep red.

"Oh, jeez, s-sorry, Sherlock… I, um, I'll er go and uh, get you some ice!" she said frantically.

He snorted.

_Holy fuck, even his snorts are arousing._

"Calm down, Molly, I'm fine," he said coolly as he picked up her papers.

He looked up at her and her knees went weak.

_I could get lost in those ever-changing grey-blue-green eyes._

Sherlock frowned. "Molly, are you alright?" he asked, taking in her dazed appearance.

_Oh my god his hand is on my arm and he's looking at me and I can smell him and oh! He smells amazing! I wonder if he tastes as good as he smells…_

"Ah, y-yeah," she stammered, blushing profusely. "I'm okay," her voice wavered.

His eyebrows knitted in concern. "I don't think you are." He observed.

_Oh my god, his face though! How does his cheekbones even do that?! And his wrinkles are adorable? Oh god his genetics are amazing! Our babies would be smart and beautiful!_

Molly swayed at the thought and collapsed to the floor.

She felt a cool pressure at her lips then a hand on her forehead. "Wake up, Molly Hooper," the voice of an angel said to her. She smiled in her sleep. She then felt a gentle shake of her shoulders.

Frowning, she opened her eyes to find herself looking at harsh hospital lighting. Suddenly Sherlock's godly face appeared above her in a bright glow. He looked concerned. "Don't fall asleep, you have a concussion."

Just then, she noticed her head was resting in his lap and that she was lying down on the floor in her lab.

She blushed as she remembered what had happened.

_Holy fuck my head is on him and he's not pushing me away._

The corner of his lip turned upward. "Are you having a conversation with yourself in your head?" he asked, well, stated suspiciously.

"Um… maybe?"

_Holy crap how did he even do that?_

"I do the same," he replied, softly stroking her hair. She closed her eyes and thought of nothing but the feeling of his fingers massaging her scalp.

He smiled wistfully, not that she saw.

"Come on," he said softly as he began to get up, half picking her up. "We're going back to mine."

"But what about the case?" she said in a fog of confusion.

He looked at her, stunned. "You're hurt." He replied, smiling slightly.

She had rested her eyes in the cab, she had been midway through the night shift when Sherlock had barged in and she was bone tired. When she awoke, she was lying in between silk sheets. She liked around the room. It smelled like Sherlock, and there were dark blue walls with what looked like bullet holes in the shape of a skull. Turning to her left she froze. Turns out she wasn't alone in bed. Oddly enough, she wasn't panicking. Sherlock looked up from where he was texting beside her, one of his ebony locks falling in his face.

"Oh, I was just about to wake you."

"How did I get here?" she murmured, mostly to herself.

Sherlock looked away. "I carried you."

"Oh," Molly blushed, fiddling with her ring that her deceased father had gotten her when she had turned twenty.

_Asdfghjkl; ermagerd I'm beside Sherlock and he fucking carried me into his bedroom squeeeeeeeeeeeee I can't even o my good lord this is paradise_

"Molly, do calm down." He said, looking back at his phone. Looking over his shoulder, she realized he was playing some sort of next level Sudoku… which appeared to be three dimensional.

"W-Where's John?"

"Hm?" he looked back at her, "oh, he's gone for the next few days… something or other about boyfriend duties in Ireland…" he trailed off.

_Good lord his voice is heavenly_

She shivered. Sherlock frowned. "Here," he said, standing up and offering his university hoodie.

Blushing, she stood up slightly dizzy, and put it on over her floral green top.

"Um… so, er why am I here?"

He leaned against the wall. "You have a concussion and you need someone to take care of you. Judging by your hairstyle you're not currently in a sexual relationship with anyone so you have no partner to care for you. You're currently in an argument with your brother, Hugo, and you don't feel like returning to you mothers' since she always comments on your relationship status. You wouldn't want to ask any friends for help, not wanting to give them that responsibility. Finally, I was there."

She frowned, looking at her bare feet. "Oh."

He glided out of the room then popped his head back in. "Tea, Molly?"

She nodded gratefully, and followed him into the kitchen. It was obvious that John had recently cleaned up, and on the counter was a tray of cookies with a cute pink label, 'chocolate chip cookies from Mrs. Hudson,' she took one, nibbiling on it quietly.

"So, um… er, h-how long am I, um, going to st-stay here?"

"Two… three days."

"Oh. Um, okay. But um… how um… what about clothes?"

Sherlock prepared the tea. "You can always borrow mine… your mind will be overstimulated if you were to travel right now." He gave her her tea. "Two sugars, one milk."

She was stumped. "How do you know?"

He just looked at her.

_Doofus Molly! Of course he knows! He's Sherlock bloody Holmes, what did you expect?!_

They had wandered over to the tv room. Unknowingly, Molly sat in his chair. He cocked an eyebrow. "Sofa has a better angle."

She smirked, feeling bold. "This is your chair, isn't it."

He looked surprised, and amused. "Yes it is, now get off."

"Only if you'll join me on the sittee."

"Fine," he conceded. "Want to watch a movie?" he suggested, tilting his head towards his DVD collection.

Standing up, she went over to the book shelf and ran her fingers over the movie titles. "You are such a nerd," she snorted.

He shrugged. "Don't even get me started on Gandalf."

She saw all the classics, from Alien to Star Trek…. And Mean Girls?

"It was part of a case," Sherlock defended himself.

She continued looking at titles. "Haven't seen Phantom Menace in a while," she muttered.

"I declare a Star Wars marathon!"

"I'll go make popcorn then, shall i?"

Taking out his collector's edition Star Wars box set he said, "it's in the first cupboard on the left behind the bottle of formaldehyde."

Quirking an eyebrow she got it and popped it in a pot. "Have any sweat pants?" she asked from inside the kitchen. "We will be on the sittee for a while."

"In my dresser in the middle drawer on the right, under a horrid plaid shirt… I only have pyjama bottoms."

"S'okay."

Sherlock watched her leave, a strange feeling of protectiveness overcoming him. Moriarty could attack any day now.

_**That's strange… what am I looking at her bum? Why did I even let her stay in**__** my**__** flat? Never took her for a Star Wars fan… John doesn't like it. I wonder if she'd be Sith or Jedi? She'd probably best identify with Anniken's mother's caring side… or maybe Jar Jar Binks for being an awkward outcast?**_

She came back in, wearing his navy blue pyjamas, which, in his opinion, suited her very well. "I'll go change too. Don't know your head!" he warned.

She laughed, almost tripping over the table.

_Better be careful, Molly_

He returned in his favourite Darth Vader pyjamas and a tight long sleeve which made Molly really want to grab him and run her hands all over his chest. He had the huge bowl of popcorn, along with two water bottles and half a dozen candy bars.

"I had to hide the candy from John. He devours it."

Molly giggled, "I'm the same."

"Yeah," Sherlock laughed.

_**Wait, hold on… did I just laugh?**_

"Me too." Sherlock replied.

Molly settled into the couch as Sherlock placed each disk in the 6-disk DVD player (A/N: yes, those exist and they're amazing) Pressing play, he came back and sat next to her. An hour into the movie, Molly had ended up with her head on his chest as he fiddled with her hair.

"I really don't like Anniken, as a character anyway." Sherlock commented.

"What?!" She threw popcorn at him.

"Just kidding." He returned fire.

It soon led to a full on popcorn war, until eventually Molly surrendered once too many kernels were trapped in her hair. They grew sleepy, and Sherlock's head ended up on her lap as she massaged his scalp.

_Oh it __is__ silky smooth!_

Sherlock sighed contentedly and rumbled.

"Did you seriously just purr?" Molly asked incredulously.

Sherlock purred again, closing his eyes.

_**Can this just be my life forever?**_

Molly's thoughts were along the same line: _please let this moment never end._

_**Oh this is not happening,**_ Sherlock panicked. _**I am not NOT **__**NOT**__** feeling attached right now. No! STOP. I don't want to caaaaare!**_

He opened his eyes and sat up, going to the very edge of the couch. Molly felt hurt: _wat. Noo… Sherloooooock come back! Let me love you! _She blushed. Love? Maybe.

Mean while Sherlock was using his deductive reasoning skills about what the hell was going on.

_**Why am I feeling sentiment this is not okay I shouldn't be so absolutely okay with her wearing my clothes and temporarily living with me and it shouldn't have felt so amazing to have her so close with her fingers in my hair and my head in her lap this is not what I do. OH FUCK. I am **__**NOT**__** physically attracted right now. She does **__**not**__** look sexy right now. **__**NO.**__** I am definitely **__**not**__** kissing her and that is final. I am married to my job… but she wouldn't really get in the way… she's a part of my job and I…. need her. **_He concluded.

Slowly, he crept back beside her. Assuming Sherlock was just being weird she accepted, lying against his chest. Suddenly, he moved her and kissed her, holding her face.

Immediately responding she gripped his hair, kissing him enthusiastically. Sherlock smiled and began to experiment, moving his hands to rest on her waist and cheek. (AN: her cheek on her face, you pervs) Movie completely forgotten, tongue started getting involved as they battled for dominance. This came as a surprise for Sherlock; he hadn't expected Molly to be so strong-willed in this situation.

Breaking apart, they gasped for air.

"No," Molly said firmly.

_**Hold on, what?**_ Sherlock's mind screamed.

"You're about to say that it was an experiment."

His mouth popped open in surprise.

"Cause that wasn't an experiment."

"Oh really," he smirked.

She smiled coyly, returning to watch the epic saga on the TV screen, tearing her eyes from his beautiful face.

"And how would you know," he asked curiously in his deep baritone.

She shrugged. "I talk to myself in my head too, remember?"

_Good Job Molly Hooper! You go Molly Hooper! Four for you, Molly Hooper! Nice comeback! But what the bloody hell is your plan right now?_

"Hm." He inched his face closer to hers. "So this isn't unexpected?" he said in a gravelly voice.

She shuddered, looking into his dilated eyes. "Not at all," she replied, as their lips met again fervishly. Sherlock's hands slid under her shirt as she gasped. Her hands wandered just as much, caressing the planes of his chest.

"Bedroom?" he panted.

"Pause the movie," he quirked an eyebrow. "What? I want to come back and watch it later." He did so and they rushed to his bedroom, their clothes quickly coming off.

"No more shy little Molly Hooper," he whispered seductively.

She grinned. "Not now."

All of a sudden a walrus burst into the room. They shrugged, and Wallace joined them under the sheets. His wrinkles turned them on, resembling an apple that was left on the counter for too many weeks. His fishy breath smelled like the sea shore where Molly had once puked. While climaxing, Wallace accidentally killed them simultaneously with his tusks.

Oh well.

John Watson returned home to the smell of dead carcasses. Looking over, he saw a walrus watching Star Wars. Slowly backing out of the flat, he ran back to Mary Morstan until the end of his days.

0o0o0

I thought those last few paragraphs were an interesting way to end it. You're welcome.


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